Friends and Fries
by BecauseHeroesNeverDie
Summary: Dipper's anxiety is getting the best of him and Wendy shares a secret family healing technique. Oneshot. -wendip friendship-


"Hey, man, you okay?" Wendy leans toward him and it feels like something has stabbed through his chest and is moving up and down inside of him. He jerks back, catches himself, and freezes, staring up at her. He attempts to laugh, but it pops and crackles in nervous spasms.

"Oh, uh, yeah. sorry," Wendy pulls away. She scoots down the couch, eyes darting over to him. _I made her feel bad._

Dipper smacks himself in the face, as hard as possible. He wishes she would tell him he was awful and creepy. The words trail around in his mind, like dirty water sloshing in his head, never leaving, never clean. _You're just some creepy freak._

"Oh, no, no. Don't worry; it's not you- it's not that- it's just that, I- I," Dipper trails off, weighing his options. A tiny optimistic voice in his head, one that may or may not sound a teensy bit like Mabel, offers up a weak, shrugging "why don't you just tell her what you're thinking," and he latches onto it like it's the nearest flashlight and the power's just gone out. He sighs and steps into the metaphorical lava-filled swimming pool, "I have a lot of trouble with… people, I guess. I don't really act like I'm supposed to around other people and I-"

"And how are you 'supposed' to act around other people?" Wendy interrupts, eyebrow raised.

"Like a normal person, you know?" Dipper's hands trace nothing in the air and he glues them together in his lap before they can go out of control.

"I talk to a lot of people, and I've never figured out what's normal," she smiles reassuringly. Something rises in his throat and it won't leave.

"Normal people aren't… scared of talking," he manages to choke out, eyes downcast and finger tracing the flowers embroidered into the couch's surface, "Or of other people."

Wendy stretches. Her brows knit in concentration. She is trying to solve him and he doesn't really like it.

"It's okay. It's gonna be okay. You are an awesome kid and I know you'll figure it all out someday. But right now it's, it's okay to feel bad, y'know?"

He nods numbly. It's nice that she's working so hard to come up with something to comfort him. He already knows how great his friends are and how hard they work to stay at his speed. He knows he's the problem and that he's never going to stop being so weird and creepy and useless and sweaty-

"Hey, you look like you could use some fries," Wendy puts up a hand to stop him from interrupting before he can even utter a dissenting squeak, "You might never guess it but the Corduroy Clan have discovered the seriously intense healing power of fries. Someone's down, you get them some fries. Stat! If you're not overloaded, we could go to the dinner. But I could always make some…"

Wendy breaks off, looking at him expectantly. He covertly wipes his hands off on the throw blanket bursting out from under the seat cushion behind him.

"Uh, dinner. The walk'll be good, I think," Dipper chances, proud that his voice isn't shaking or cracking or being generally stupid.

"Alright," Wendy nods and picks herself up off of the couch. She's out the door faster than he thinks should be possible or legal.

"So, how's the big mystery going, man?" Wendy tries as he trots up next to her.

"So far, so good. I don't know everything yet. I know that there's something missing and I think that finding it will make things clearer. Like what happened thirty years ago?" Comfortably dropped into the calming ocean of his latest obsession, Dipper finds his mouth unsticking and his throat unclogging. Before he knows it, the open door to Greasy's Dinner is in front of him. Wendy jerks a thumb at Toby Determined, who's sitting in the bar and attempting to interview Lazy Susan with a curling iron and a broken etch-a-sketch. They're still giggling as they take their seats.

"Some fries over here, please!" Wendy shouts at the waitress fearlessly. What a woman.

"Okay, so everyone in town is trapped on a deserted island. Who lives, and who tries to eat their own shoes?" Wendy asks, out of nowhere.

"Well, first of all, old man McGucket makes it out first and no one has any idea why," Dipper, encouraged by Wendy's chuckling, digs into an elaborate discussion of the merits and shortcomings of the many citizens of Gravity Falls. Neither of them mentions Robbie.

The fries arrive in the middle of an intense debate over whether or not Soos' underground faction of rad dudes would eventually overcome the inevitable Northwest oligarchy.

"Take as much as you want, I've been eating these weirdly good granola bars all day, so I'm, like, seriously full." Dipper stares at the fries with suspicion. Could their problem-solving magic really work on him? He picks one up, astutely observing that they look exactly like ordinary fries. He puts it in his mouth and... _whoa_.

"These are really good fries," he manages through a mouthful, somehow not so embarrassed about his bad manners. He's bulldozing through the fries now. He pauses and finds that he can't stop laughing at himself, because seriously, was all he needed some fries? "This is ridiculous."

"They don't solve anything, but they always make me feel great," Wendy rubs her chin sagely, and leans forward, ready to impart great wisdom. "Friends and good fries are, like, necessities."

Dipper nods and reaches for another fry.

"Yeah."

_Writer's woes: hey guys. I wanted to do some cutesy dipper/wendy friendship because I absolutely loved into the bunker. This fic was inspired by tumblr user purplethinks' awesome pic of dip and wen eating fries! My friends and I like to share fries when we're down or just when we need food so this kinda came from there. I'm also in love with writing Dipper's anxiety like real anxiety. I see a lot of me in that ridiculous kid and it's honestly really validating. _

_Stay strange~!_


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